Knight's Dominion (Knights of Hell Book 4)

by Sherilee Gray

  Jack cursed under his breath as he worked around Gunner’s fingers, desperately trying to soak up the blood pooling around the wound so he could see what he was doing.

  Everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion, the silence so oppressive, Grace thought she’d lose her mind if someone didn’t say something. Chaos was dying, and no one was saying anything.

  She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t lose him.

  She’d only just allowed herself to accept it, what throbbed behind her ribs whenever he was near, what had been there a while now. The respect, the admiration, God, the awe, she’d felt as she’d gotten to know him—the affection, the pride that he was hers—it was more. What she felt for the male in that bed, her mate, was so much more.

  He was everything.

  Guilt over her parents had clouded the truth. She’d stupidly fought it, had been afraid of what was so clearly in her heart.

  Afraid to let him in because she couldn’t bear to lose him as well.

  Right now, her heart lay bleeding on that bed. Cold and broken, battered and barely beating. She loved him.

  She loved him so much.

  They hadn’t gotten the chance to learn everything about each other. She didn’t know his favorite color, his favorite meal, his favorite TV show. Did he even watch TV? She didn’t know that, either. He was her mate, and she didn’t know.

  “Shhhh, it’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay,” someone said close to her ear, and the room seemed to spin back into reality, time snapping again into full speed. Jack barking orders at Gunner. Chaos’s brothers all around her, fear etched into their faces.

  “Don’t fight me, Grace, come on, I don’t want to hurt you,” the same voice said. “We gotta let the doc do his thing.”

  Fight?

  That’s when she realized strong arms were wrapped around her, gripping her wrists, stopping her from going to Chaos. And that sound she could hear, that agonized whimpering like a wounded animal, that was coming from her.

  Rocco didn’t let go, even when she stilled.

  He looked down at her with hollow eyes, so dark that the blue irises looked like shadows had bled into them. “I’ve got you,” he said.

  His cheeks were sunken in, worse than when she’d last seen him. But he was here, for his brother. She didn’t reply, couldn’t. She didn’t try to pull away either because she needed someone to hold her up. If he let her go, she thought she might free-fall into nothing.

  So she stayed where she was, collapsed against Rocco’s chest, his strong arms stopping her from falling.

  Finally, Jack stood back, wiping his blood-stained hands on a towel. “I’ve got the bleeding under control. He’ll live, but he’ll be out for a while. He needs to regenerate the blood he lost, and his body will already be working overtime to heal his other injuries. I’ll line up the broken bones in his wings so they’ll heal straight, but that’s all I can do.” He looked up, his eyes meeting Grace’s. “Time is what he needs. Having his mate close will help.” He shrugged. “In my experience, with any beings, it always does.”

  “He can have my blood,” Grace rasped.

  “It doesn’t work that way, unfortunately. Besides, your blood wouldn’t be strong enough. The only option is to wait.”

  Rocco finally released her, and Grace rushed to Chaos’s side. She had to touch him, to reassure herself that he was actually there, that he hadn’t left her. She gently cupped his face, his bearded jaw scraping against her hand. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me; do you hear me? I’m staying right here.”

  He’d fought, had been prepared to give his life for this war, to keep the demi and humans safe in this city, and he almost had. He’d almost died.

  How could she have ever doubted him?

  Lazarus and Eve came up beside her, and Grace looked up at the male. Eve was plastered to his side. She gave Grace’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but her focus was on her mate and the pain he was obviously feeling.

  Laz looked down at Chaos like he was willing him to open his eyes. But that wasn’t the only thing causing him pain. What happened with Tobias in the warehouse had cut them all deeply, but especially Lazarus. The exchange between them before he was sent to Hell had made that clear.

  “He’ll be okay,” Laz said gruffly to her. “Lazy fucker just needs to sleep it off.”

  Eve squeezed her shoulder again. “I’m here if you need me, for anything, any time of the day or night, okay?”

  Grace nodded but didn’t take her eyes off Chaos. She was almost too scared to look away from him.

  Laz and Eve left and she was aware when Rocco, Kryos, and Zenon followed. Mia and Meredith leaving with them after they gave Grace a tight hug.

  “Can I clean the blood and dirt off him?” Grace asked Jack as he packed up his things.

  “Of course. He’ll feel you close, your touch. It’ll help him, knowing you’re with him.”

  He left a short time later, and Grace reluctantly left Chaos’s side to get what she needed. She filled a bowl with warm water, grabbed the soap, a towel, and several face cloths.

  “Let’s get you clean,” she murmured as she sat on the side of the bed and dipped the cloth in the water.

  She leaned over him and, careful of his wings, started on his shoulders and chest, so broad and strong, so powerful. God, he was beautiful. Every part of him. And not just the outside. He was stubborn and surly, could be short-tempered and blunt, but it was because he cared. Because he lived and breathed the fight.

  Not sure what to say, Grace hummed softly as she rinsed the cloth, then gently slid it over the bruised skin on his pecs and down over his ridged abdominal muscles, careful of the white gauze dressings he had on his stomach and thighs.

  Jack had thrown a sheet across his lap when everyone had crowded the bedroom, and she removed it so she could get every bit of blood. Her hands shook as she stroked the cloth across his skin. She couldn’t bear to see one trace of his blood smeared on his perfect body. She worked her way down his thick, muscular thighs and long legs, cleaning his feet as well.

  Using the towel, she ran it gently over his body, drying him off. Her gaze moved to his wings, dove-gray feathers that were streaked with dirt from the warehouse floor, some parts blood-soaked, making some feathers so deep a crimson they were almost black.

  Her heart clenched as what had happened in that warehouse replayed in her head. The snapping of the monster’s jaws, the sound of Chaos’s body breaking as he was flung across the warehouse. It echoed through her mind, stealing her breath.

  She couldn’t leave his beautiful wings like that.

  Grace replaced the water, grabbed another cloth, and climbed onto the bed beside him. She’d never really touched his wings. When he’d picked her up and carried her, when they’d flown through the skies, her fingers had only brushed them when she’d wrapped her arms around his neck.

  They looked like velvet.

  She brushed the tips of her fingers over the long, wide feathers. They felt like velvet.

  Working her way over the one that was most damaged first, she brushed the cloth over it, with barely there strokes, removing as much of the blood and dirt as she could. She was terrified she’d hurt him.

  She moved to the other side and started again. Getting it as clean as she could. This side was basically undamaged, besides some missing or broken feathers. The wing arched high, and she slid her hand along it with the gentlest of touches.

  Goose bumps broke out all over Chaos’s skin, and he shuddered. Her gaze snapped to his. His eyes were still closed, but there was some color back in his cheeks.

  Did he like it? When she touched his wings?

  She did it again, nuzzling his jaw, pressing her mouth to his ear so he would hear her. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

  He shuddered again, his fingers twitching at his side. His eyes stayed closed, but one strong hand grabbed her wrist, tugging her closer and knocking her off balanc
e. She fell beside him, landing on his wing, and tried to scramble away, but his grip tightened. Even unconscious, his instincts reached for her. He wanted her right where she was.

  Grace was on her side, and she pressed into his, not giving him any of her weight but letting him feel the warmth of her body, the beat of her heart. The grip on her wrist finally eased and he relaxed.

  “You scared me in that warehouse,” she said, even though he still wasn’t conscious, hoping that the sound of her voice would help like Jack said. “Don’t ever do that again. You’re mine, do you hear me, and I’m not losing you yet. I can be just as stubborn as you, and you don’t have my permission to leave me.”

  She pressed a kiss to his throat, and started humming again, a tune she hadn’t thought of in so long she was surprised she still remembered it. The words of the song her mother had sung to her when she was small came back to her, and she sang them to her mate, a sweet little song about love and family.

  The wing she was lying on, his uninjured one, lifted, curling around her, cocooning them both in warmth and softness. She glanced up, but his eyes were shut, his face relaxed in sleep.

  Grace didn’t move. She stayed right where she was, where Chaos needed her to be.

  Chaos blinked several times, trying to shake the fog from his head. He was hot, his skin tight, and there was a familiar ache down to his bones. His body was working to fix the damage that had been done.

  A soft sound had him glancing down.

  Grace was plastered to his side, her face against his ribs. One of her hands was curled at her side, the other arm under her head. Her brown lashes rested against her cheeks, and there were dark smudges under her eyes.

  Memories came flooding back, or maybe they were dreams?

  No, he still felt her touch, could hear her soft voice. It had happened, all of it.

  Grace had washed him, had talked to him, sung to him. Fuck, his gut clenched. No one had ever done anything like that for him in his long life. Taken care of him like that.

  She wriggled, made a small sound, then her eyes snapped open, like she sensed him watching her.

  “Chaos, oh my God, you’re awake.”

  She didn’t move. It was like she was afraid to, like she’d been still for so long, it was instinct not to.

  So she didn’t hurt him.

  “Grace…” His voice was raw, like he hadn’t used it in a long time.

  “Shhh.” She lifted her hand carefully, and then gently, so very gently cupped his jaw, thumb gliding over his beard, while staring into his eyes. “Don’t try to speak.”

  “How long have I been out?” he croaked.

  “Five days.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That long?”

  “You lost a lot of blood…you were so…broken. Your body had a lot of work to do.”

  “You’ve been here with me the whole time?” He knew it was the truth, remembered coming in and out of consciousness now. Remembered her slight weight there beside him, always beside him.

  Her cheeks turned pink. “I mean, I got up to eat and use the bathroom when you’d, uh…let me.”

  “Let you?”

  “You held on to me, curled your uninjured wing around us.”

  He looked at her, took her in properly. Her cheeks were pale, her hair loose and a little wild, like she’d showered then let it dry lying right here. She was wearing one of his T-shirts, and when she carefully slid an arm around his waist, looking up at him with concern, he could see she was thinner. He curled his arm around her waist as well and hauled her up and on top of him.

  She cried out, trying to wriggle away.

  “You won’t hurt me,” he said gruffly. “Besides a few bruises, my bones have repaired themselves.” He held her to him, his hands moving over her narrow hips, her now more prominent rib cage. “You stayed with me, beside me, for five days?”

  She nodded.

  “Angel,” he choked.

  She cupped his face again. “I was where I was supposed to be, where I wanted to be.”

  “You haven’t been eating. I can feel your fucking ribs.”

  “I ate.”

  She couldn’t eat, because he’d barely let her move.

  He sat up, relieved that except for a few aches and pains and a bit of dizziness from lack of food, he felt fine. He planted Grace on the bed and pulled the IV feeding fluids into his body free.

  “Where are you going, you’re still recovering?” Grace was about to follow him, but he planted a hand against her belly and stopped her. “Stay here.”

  “Hang on a minute…”

  “Promise me, you will not move?”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she dipped her chin.

  Chaos pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and after a quick bathroom break, because he needed to piss big-time, he headed to the kitchen. He made her a couple sandwiches—and ate two himself while he was at it. Then he poured her some juice and downed a glass himself.

  Grace was still sitting in his bed when he walked back in.

  He handed her a sandwich. “Eat it all,” he ordered.

  “What about you?” She held it back out for him.

  He’d laugh if he wasn’t so focused on seeing her eat the damn food. “I had mine.” When she didn’t make a move to take a bite, he said, “I promise. I ate in the kitchen.”

  Finally, she took a bite, her eyes closing and a little moan slipping free as she chewed. He sat watching her until she was done. “Now the drink.”

  She dutifully finished that as well.

  As her throat worked, liquid making her lips glisten, he felt his body tighten and his cock grew hard.

  “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you,” she said.

  “You did, angel.” He held out his hand and she took it instantly.

  Yeah, he liked that. So fucking much. He stood, tugging her with him gently.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, sounding kind of amused.

  The food had helped, the weakness sliding from his bones. “Shower.”

  He led her to the smaller room and turned on the water. When he turned back to her, Grace had removed his shirt that she’d been wearing. She tossed it in the hamper, followed by her underwear. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he ate up the sight of her, his mouth going dry. Fuck, she was perfect. Small, high breasts, narrow but nicely round hips. Thinner yes, but still so damn gorgeous.

  Grace took a step toward him, and all those lean, hard-won muscles flexed as she moved. So fucking strong. Inside and out.

  “Beautiful,” he rasped.

  God, so beautiful.

  He wanted to kiss her, badly, but he’d been out cold for five days. “Climb in.”

  “Are you getting in with me?”

  “Try to stop me.”

  She grinned and climbed in.

  Chaos quickly bushed his teeth, and she laughed softly, though her chuckles died when he turned back toward her and she got an eyeful of his cock.

  He was impossibly hard. Somehow, he resisted giving his dick a stroke and climbed in behind her. Though the sight of her all wet and slick, the feel of her, just made his condition worse.

  But right then, he wanted to take care of Grace, like she had him.

  “Back to me, angel. Tip your head back.”

  She turned, arching back in a way that stole his breath, her tits, tight little nipples right there. Again, he resisted and ran his fingers through her hair, getting it nice and wet. When she straightened, he curled his fingers around her hips, pulling her closer, and lathered shampoo through the thick blond strands. Grace made little humming noises, sighing as he massaged her scalp.

  Finally, he got her to tilt her head back again to rinse it out.

  She sighed again as he ran a soapy cloth over her body, cleaning her like she had him.

  “You don’t need to do that…”

  “I want to,” he said, voice gruff. “Taking care of you makes me feel…”

  “Content?” she sai
d softly. “Satisfied in a way you never knew was possible? Whole?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  She turned in his arms, looking up at him. “I would’ve taken down anyone who tried to take you away from me these last five days,” she said earnestly. “And nothing, no one, could make me leave you.”

  Chaos’s heart beat faster at her words, his eyes searching hers, fuck, getting lost in them. “Yeah?” It was all he had, all he could get out with everything he was feeling right then.

  She slid her hands over his chest. “You’re mine, Chaos. All mine.”

  He was suddenly struggling for breath. “You truly feel that way?”

  Grace smiled, soft and a little self-conscious, but that stubborn chin of hers had lifted. His mate wasn’t afraid of anything. “What I feel for you, it’s not just this…this thing inside me, not anymore. When I thought I could lose you, when I saw you battered and bleeding and I couldn’t get to you, everything came crashing in. I couldn’t fool myself anymore. I didn’t want to.” She cupped his face, her thumb sliding over his whiskered jaw, and looked deep into his eyes. “You’re the best male I have ever known. How could I not fall completely, hopelessly in love with you?”

  His breath hitched. How could it be true? How could he be this lucky? He cupped her face as well. “You love me?”

  “We were made for each other, how could I not?”

  Chaos shook, the full force of his love for the female looking up at him, his female, throbbed through his veins, pumped in his chest. There was no stopping the wide, goofy-as-fuck smile from spreading across his face.

  When she smiled back, he leaned in, and finally, finally kissed her like he’d been desperate to since he woke and found her lying beside him.

  Her soft lips were heaven, her taste filled his head and made him fucking dizzy.

  She loved him.

  Chaos kissed her for a long time, until her lips felt swollen and tingly, and between her thighs was aching and slick.